To Vault
by Shadow of the Forgotten Ones
Summary: A day with Rebecca practising vaulting. A request.


**AN: I'm sorry it took so long to complete and that it isn't as long as you probably hoped. I had some trouble with it but I hope it's still enjoyable. This is a request.**

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Rebecca stretches, the muscles in her back stretching and she arches back. For a while, she had dropped gymnastics to focus on dueling but now she's back to what she thinks is her true calling. She twists her neck, popping it and fighting back giggles as her hair, pulled up into a ponytail, tickles her neck. All around her, her team is getting dressed in their own leotards. The scent of chalk and leather reach even the locker room though it is almost drowned out by the old water scent that seems to cling to the walls. They don't have a meet just yet but training is a must, she's the youngest one on the team at fourteen. The others ruffle her hair as they head out into the gymnasium. With a deep breath and one last look at her newest leotard- a light blue one with pink trim- she follows them out.

"Gymnastics originated in ancient Spain and was originally intended for military training, where it was used by soldiers to prepare for warfare. And while it is no longer so, it does help improve not only your physical strength but it will help you mentally as well. We do this for fun but also to win," the coach says winding down from her 'rousing' speech on the sport and it's importance. Rebecca rolls her eyes fondly. It's the same one every year when new people come in. The team splits up into four groups; one for vaulting, one for uneven bars, one for floor exercise and one for the balance beam.

Rebecca heads toward the section that is set aside for vaulting. Stretching is done, lunges and general things that help lumber a body up. She takes a steadying breath. Her legs burn pleasantly, not painful but that slight sting that says they are ready for a workout. The chalk dust that she covers her hands in is cold and clings to her fingers. When it's her turn to sprint down the runway she grins and does so joyously. The jump onto the springboard is perfect, it dips under her weight before helping her launch. Her landing on the vaulting horse is a bit wonky, the bar feels large in her small hands. She makes a note of that to practice at home. Her post-flight segment is great if she so humbly says. The saltos and somersaults blending perfectly. Coach is watching her closely as she finishes her routine.

"You're handspring needs work Hawkins! Don't get cocky because of your age!"

"Yes, coach!"

Her next run three runs aren't much better. It's almost irritating that she can't stick her pre-flight segment. She takes a water break watching the other girls who are vaulting. Coach is shouting out corrections to them as well as the other sections of the gymnasium. The water is cool running down her throat quenching her thirst and lowering her temperature. Her bare legged leotard is starting to cling to her uncomfortably and it sticks to the seats as well. Some of the girls are doing Yurchenko's that have her gut twisting in envy. The girls round off so well, their hands on the runway while their feet land on the springboard.

Break over she stands up and takes another sprint down the runway. Her eyes narrow in concentration as she lands inverted on the vaulting horse before propelling herself forward. The landing this time is much better. Her post-flight segment, however...

"You're a bit wobbly Hawkins!"

Rebecca sighs in frustration at herself more than at the reprimand. She used to be good at vaulting, she's still decent, can do the moves without hurting herself but she wants to do better. She needs to do better.

Practise ends for the day, the journey home is a long one. The chalk seems to stain her hands despite the fact that she showered. It's like there is a film on her hands that mutes everything she touches. Her grandfather is waiting for her when she comes. He's home from work and reading the newspaper. She takes him in, a smile on her face. Too often they miss each other by seconds because of their busy schedules.

"Hello, Rebecca. How was practise?" he asks when she sits down beside him.

"It was okay. I need to practise a bit more but I didn't wipeout so that's good."

He chuckles.

"That's very true."

She does some of her homework, getting it out of the way before heading down to the basement. A testament to how much her grandfather is willing to spoil her, their basement is decked out with the best equipment they can afford. She changes out of her clothes and into another leotard- this one a light gray with blue trim. Foregoing the stretches she sprints down the stretch before jumping onto the small springboard. Her hands clutch at the rough vault horse and she smiles in victory as she does it perfectly before propelling herself into her post-flight segment. God does she love using her own body strength to do this. To bend and glide and twist. Like a mini warrior training for battle, she goes through her routine once, twice, three times before taking a break. They don't last long but the exertion and focus tires her out. It's a good tired that she chases, that she missed while she was dueling, dealing with Dartz aside.

Her chest is still heaving slightly as she stands. This time she's going to do a roundoff instead of a handspring. Hair swishing as she sprints down the runway Rebecca grins as she rounds off. Her feet land on the springboard and she lands. It's a little rocky but for someone rusty trying to do a higher level move, she does well. She lets out a whoop of joy doing a sing somersault before dismounting. It doesn't stop there, she practises until her hands burn and her leotard feels like it's chaffing her. She practises until it's time for dinner and her lungs feel like they've been pounded by a hammer. Her legs shake with exhaustion but she grins widely. It may not be like riding a bike but the thrill of performing is still there.

She goes to bed with a sense of satisfaction and joy mingling with her tiredness.


End file.
